Beware of blue stockings!

[amything]

Because Cesca thought I should. In which Moritz and Ilse...teach each other things.

This was done in prose. Minor edits were made and mistakes corrected, just so it flows better.

Continued from this thread.



"Any luck with the artists?" After a moment's hesitation, he sat, hugging his knees.

"Not yet. I hope they haven't any models already."

"They might. Just... please be careful, Ilse?"

Ilse smiled, almost patronizingly, and gave him a good-natured pat on the knee. "Oh, I will!"

He frowned, offended. "I'm serious, Ilse. I worry about you!"

"Silly." She scooped a few of the flower petals up into her hand, and sprinkled them near his feet. "I'm not worth your worries."

"You're worth much more than you think, Ilse."

"Oh?"

"Much more." He stared at his knees, blushing a little. He should do what he told Melchior he would -- just out with it.

She tilted her head to one side, studying him, as if he were some sort of strange and beautiful bird. "And so are you."

"I'm not worth hardly anything at all."

"Why, you're worth bringing flowers to a grave. And--" Ilse bit her lip, not quite sure as to what she was trying to communicate to him. "What you're saying is a lie."

He looked up, biting his lip as well, "My father disowned me at my funeral."

"Your father is a fool."

"Ilse -- " He stopped and shook his head. He was being stupid.

"What?" The look on her face was almost childish in its petulance. "It's true!"

"No, I -- I want to ask you something and I'm not sure if I should."

This only peaked her curiosity, and she pulled her legs up and hugged her knees, imitating his current position. "What is it, Moritz? What is it that you think you shouldn't ask me?"

Oh god, did she not know how this was teasing him? With her stockings and he could almost see -- he looked away, going a bit red. "I don't know if I should say."

Most of the petals had fallen from her lap, and she began to sprinkle a path between them, from her feet to his. "Why?"

"It might be -- innappropriate."

"That doesn't do, Moritz. Now I will lie awake all night thinking of you and the question you dared not ask!"

Now that was an image he did not need. "Ilse I -- "

"Moritz you -- ?" Ilse sobered and waited, though she wished he didn't feel the need to be so serious.

"I should very much like to kiss you." There, he'd said it.

"Oh!" It took a moment to register, and Ilse found herself caressing one of the rose petals with the pad of her thumb, over and over. "Oh -- me?"

"Er -- yes, that is what I said, isn't it?" He thought he'd said that, but he could've been wrong.

"Yes. You did." Suddenly, Ilse was very shy.

"If you don't want to, I understand. But I had to say it."

"But -- why -- ?"

"Why what?"

"Why me?"

"Because -- I'm fond of you, I think."

"That's nice." She glanced at the floor, then his face, then the floor again. "I'm fond of you too."

Moritz smiled shyly, a little hopefully, "Yes?

"Yes."

"You're a good friend, and -- " he glanced at her again, before returning his eyes to his knees. "I've always found you quite beautiful."

It wasn't the first time Ilse had been called beautiful, only this time felt new and different, and it was enough to catch her off-guard. "Thank you, Moritz."

Thank you? Was she supposed to say thank you? "You're welcome."

She took a breath, paused, and then reached out to touch his shoulder -- lightly. "My heart is beating very fast."

He jumped a little, "As is mine."

"We are both alive." A flicker of a smile, tiny and amused, appeared on her face.

"So we are." He laughed a little, feeling a bit better. "Do you need to feel my heart again?"

"I would like to," she said, "while you kiss me."

"While I -- oh." Moritz put his legs down, looking nervous now.

Ilse followed suit, for her own part looking confused and maybe even a little pleading. "You don't wish to anymore?"

"No, I wish it. Very much. Do -- do you?"

"Yes please."

Moritz hesitated, taking a deep breath and trying to build his confidence. "Then -- yes." He leaned in and pressed his lips to Ilse's, not sure what else he should do or even if he was doing this properly.

Ilse let her eyes flutter shut, the rest of her remaining completely still (save for her heart, perhaps). Then, gently, she returned the pressure.

He pulled away and licked his lips, "I've never -- kissed anyone before."

"Never?"

"Not ever. That was my first kiss."

She scooted closer; one stocking was falling a little and gathering at her knee. "Did you like it?"

"It felt --" he touched his lips, then nodded, trying not to look at her stockings. "I liked it."

"Enough to do it once more?"

"Enough to do it more than once more."

"Again and again. And again." Ilse grinned. "I am at your service, Moritz."

"No -- " he said quickly, taking her hand. "I don't want you to think of it like that."

This surprised her. "Like -- what?"

"Being at my service. You deserve more than that."

It was official -- Moritz was a strange and funny creature. "What more is there?"

And Ilse made Mortiz a little sad. "To be -- as equals."

"You sound -- " She paused and glanced at their entwined hands. "You sound like Melchior."

"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"

"Neither, I think."

"Oh..." He kissed her hand. "I only meant that I don't want one of us to be above the other. You're my friend, Ilse."

She wasn't sure how to respond to that -- to any of it. "...Alright."

Moritz pulled away, discouraged by her hesitation. "But if that isn't what you want, that's alright."

"It's new." It might have dawned on her a little then. "I'm scared."

"I am too." He couldn't look at her, just stared at the floor.

"Of me?"

"Of what I'm feeling."

She inched close to him, again. She didn't like it when he pulled away. "Because it's new?"

"Because it's new -- because I don't know how to explain all I'm feeling right now. Because I'm scared something will happen that could ruin something good that I have."

"Things change," said Ilse, softly but with conviction. "Like seasons."

"Will you tell me what you want?" He looked at her out of the corner of his eye, a little hopeful.

"What do you mean?"

"Do you -- want to be with me?"

Oh, indeed. This was certainly a day of firsts. "...Yes."

"I think... that I'd like to be with you as well."

She smiled, reclaimed his hand, and kissed it as he had done hers.

Moritz turned to face her again, smiling. "I like when you're around, Ilse."

"Do you?"

"You make me happy."

"Oh. Oh, good. Happiness matters very much to me." She was stroking his hand now, with her thumb.

"Are you happy, Ilse?"

"You ask me such strange things, Moritz. Things no one has asked me before." It was enough to both unsettle and excite her. "But -- yes. Right now I'm happy."

"Should I stop?" He looked worried and went to draw his hand away.

Her grip tightened. "No."

"Then -- what now?"

"...You could kiss me again."

"Will you show me how?"

"I can try."

He nodded and moved so he was sitting next to her, "Then I am your pupil."

This made her giggle a bit. "Very well." Slowly, she placed a warm hand on the back of his neck, and urged him gently toward her.

Moritz followed her directions and leaned in, reaching a hand up to touch her cheek.

Her breath caught at the touch, an unexpected reaction. "That's it." And then, for the second time, her lips were pressed to his.

He was still unsure, but a little less so than the last time. He gently pressed his lips against hers, leaning in closer and cupping his hand over her cheek.

She began to try and coach him with her mouth, patient and tentative; at the same time he might have felt the subtle pressure of a hand against his chest, over where his heartbeat lay.

Moritz felt his heart flutter -- though with what, he wasn't sure. Nervousness was most prevelant at the moment, and the fear that his body would betray him and Ilse would pull away.

If anything, Ilse was only drawing closer. Realizing they would have to breathe at some point, however, she finally broke away and set her forehead against his own.

"Oh -- " he shivered a little, breathing hard. "Oh, that feels -- wonderful, Ilse. It feels wonderful."

"I suppose it does," she agreed, though before the thought had never crossed her mind. "I like it when you touch me, Moritz."

He gently stroked Ilse's cheek with his thumb. "You do?"

Now it was her turn to shiver a little. "Yes."

"When you asked me to feel your heart... I wanted to, but I couldn't."

"Why?"

"Because I wasn't sure if I could do so without trembling." And he was trembling now, slightly.

"Would you do it now?" Her voice dropped to a whisper. "We could tremble together."

Cautiously, carefully, Moritz reached his other hand out, brushing his fingertips against Ilse's chest where her heart was. "Here?"

"There."

He pressed his palm to her chest and inhaled sharply, stopping himself from pulling away again.

She placed her hand over his, encouraging him. "Is it so bad?"

"No..." He curled his fingers slightly, then straightened them again. "It's -- quite intimate."

"It's truly knowing a person." Unconsciously -- or maybe not -- her hand began to guide his nearer to her breast.

"How much... would you like me to know?" His voice was a little breathless as he felt his desire starting to build and tried to fight it back.

"However much you would like to know."

"No -- you tell me. Otherwise I'm not sure I can stop until I know all of you."

"...I would like that you knew all of me, Moritz."

Moritz whimpered softly and leaned in to kiss her again, more deeply than the times before. He wanted to touch her, to know her, and part of him wondered if this was how Melchior felt about Wendla.

Somehow her arms had found their way around him -- she let him take over, let herself fall in.

He snaked an arm around her waist, pulling her closer to him as they kissed. This was even better than in his dreams, because she was here and real and he could touch her.

"Oh," Ilse finally breathed. The look she gave him then was wide-eyed, full of wonder, and she buried her face in his neck.

Moritz blinked a few times, but held her, "Oh...?"

"This is very new."

"It's... new for me too."

"I have been kissed before," she admitted. "I have been kissed and had by other men. But never like this."

"How is this different?"

"Its you -- and you haven't a gun -- and it's you."

Moritz looked a little confused, "Have you -- wanted this?"

All Ilse could do at this point was duck her head and blush.

"Have you?"

"Perhaps. A little."

"I -- " He remembered what Melchior said earlier. "I've had dreams about you, Ilse."

"You've dreamed of me?" She wasn't quite sure what to think of that. "...And what happens in these dreams?"

He bit his lip a little, "It's only your legs -- in those..." Moritz let his eyes roam over Ilse's legs, knee to ankle and back up again. "Stockings."

She tugged at the one that had fallen near her knee, self-consciously. "You've dreamed...of my legs?"

"I think they were your legs. It was the same stockings."

"Oh... Do you like my stockings?"

"They're -- lovely stockings, yes."

She smiled. "Thank you! They remind me of the sky."

"They remind me -- of the sky, yes." And waking up in the middle of the night, tangled in his sheets... but those were not good thoughts to have right now.

"I might have dreamed of you, once," she confessed, her voice almost a purr. "But I find it difficult to remember my dreams."

"What -- what was it about? Can you remember?"

Ilse thought a moment, and began to absently twist the end of one of her braids around her finger. "I remember your hands on me -- and nothing else, I'm afraid."

"Where?"

"...Everywhere."

Another deep, slightly shaky breath. "Show me."

"If you wish --" Hesitant, she took his hand.

"I wish... if you wish." He stared at their hands.

"Yes." She guided the hand to her chest again.

"Then... show me everything you want to show me. I won't stop you."

She swallowed, licked her lips. "In the dream... You touched me here." Moritz's hand was gently moved to her breast. "I was wearing stockings -- but they were falling from my legs."

Moritz closed his eyes, biting his lip, "Oh... " He opened them again after a moment and leaned in to gently kiss her neck.

Her breath quickened at this. "You didn't do that -- I don't think -- but oh, I like that."

"I just wanted -- to kiss you. But not to stop you from talking. Will you keep talking?" He kissed gently along her neck, enjoying the way she smelled and tasted.

"I --" Dear God, he expected her to talk while he was doing that? "I was unraveling -- like thread -- and your hands were everywhere at once. And you were whispering things."

"What was I whispering, Ilse?" He hoped that her dreams could give him some clue of how to go about this.

"That you wanted me."

"I do -- I do want you, Ilse..." He kissed her lips again, a little frantic this time.

Any breath remaining was stolen from her in that kiss. She returned it with equal enthusiasm, her body instinctively beginning to ease itself backward.

Moritz stretched out on the ground beside her, as close as he dared without pressing their hips together.

This effort would be in vain, for Ilse was making it her goal to press as close to him as humanly possible.

"Ilse -- perhaps you shouldn't -- "

"-- what?"

"It's only that I -- " He couldn't say it, wasn't even sure how.

She pulled away and looked at him, expectantly.

"I'm not sure... how to put it, exactly."

"You can try?"

"I don't know. It's -- almost like an ache. A desperate, physical longing."

"Like hunger?"

"Ah... lower."

"Oh... Oh."

Moritz rolled over and curled on his side, his back to Ilse now, "I'm so sorry..."

"What -- sorry?" She moved closer to him again and placed a hand, reassuring, on his back.

"For -- being like this."

"It's nothing to be sorry for, I don't think."

"Isn't it?"

"No!"

"Why not?"

"It's what you feel."

"So many nights I'd wake up -- like this -- I lost sleep over it."

"That doesn't make it bad."

He turned his head to look at her, blushing faintly, "Then -- it's alright? You're not upset?"

Ilse shook her head and smiled; he could be so silly, sometimes! "No, I'm not."

"Then -- good," he smiled and reached out to take her hand.

Ilse squeezed it in response, before letting herself lie back on the floor again.

Moritz turned to face her again, carefully laying his head on her shoulder, "Is this alright?"

"Yes," she assured him, and rested her cheek against his hair.

After a few, comfortable moments, he took Ilse's hand and kissed it, then draped his arm over her waist.

She snuggled closer and sighed, quite content.